


i fall without my wings, i feel so small (guess i need you baby)

by fortunatedaughter



Category: Pitch (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-13
Updated: 2016-10-13
Packaged: 2018-08-22 05:38:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8274764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fortunatedaughter/pseuds/fortunatedaughter
Summary: Speculation for 1x04 - the infamous Baker family dinner.





	

**Author's Note:**

> based upon the release of [this image](http://ginny-lawson.tumblr.com/post/151693071148/behind-the-scenes) and that one line in the promo. the plot bunny burrowed deep with this one so here we are.

“Can we please stop talking about my dead father?” Her fork clangs against the fancy china plate, and Amelia’s hand clenches around Mike’s thigh under the table. Whereas before it had been sexy when she’d kept her hand there, the two of them toeing the line of being open but not - now it’s just a painful reminder of the fact Baker when and shot the elephant in the room.

(The thing is she’s always been closest to her Dad. It was baseball that bonded them, sure - that fateful day when she was barely five years old sealing that deal - but the two of them were wildly similar. Strong and stoic and dedicated to their craft; they didn’t need to use words to make a point with each other, for a look would often do just that. Will and Mom - they were the chatterboxes, always wanting to talk when in reality, Ginny liked to run as far as possible from those conversations.)

“He’s gone, okay? Six feet under. Let’s just fucking move on.” She spits the words, anger and grief practically dripping to the table below them.

Mike inhales sharply, exhaling as his eyes dart from his rookie to her mother, to her brother and back again across the remaining three Baker family members.

(And God, she didn’t even want Mike here to witness this; but fucking Amelia just had to invite him along - _he’s your mentor, Ginny, it’s about time he meets the other parts of your life._ \- because this, this is who she is. The shattered parts of her family, torn apart by her Dad’s death and the love of a sport she can never let go of. Those peices are so shattered she can’t pick them up and put them back together, lest she cut open her fingers. She wanted to protect Mike from this - have him still believe in the rookie with raw talent who was taking on the world and killing it. She didn’t want him to know her as the broken girl with a broken home.)

“Why - don’t we go and get some air?” Mike says, reaching a hand under the table to extract his leg from Amelia’s grip. He ignores her pointed look, keeping his gaze solely on Ginny. (She needs him more than a blonde with long legs ever could.)

Ginny catches Mike’s gaze and after a moment, nods silently, standing and slipping through the throngs of tables and people - all of them watching superstar Ginny Baker, because even in private family moments, she can’t escape the legacy she’s creating by simply exisiting. (What would her life be like, if she hadn’t picked that ball up? What would her life be like, if she had given up the day her Dad died? Would she be happier? Sometimes she thinks she might be.)

Madeline seems to snap out of it first. “Mike, I’m so sorry -”

He shakes his head, not even looking at the woman, gaze solely trained on Ginny as she slips out onto the deserted balcony. “It’s fine.”

“No,” Madeline isn’t buying it. “Ginny should know better -”

“Her father’s dead, Madeline.” He snaps, gaze leaving Ginny and resting on her mother. “Barely been 3 years if my math’s right. Getting over something like that doesn’t happen overnight.”

He shakes his head and stands, departing the table and heading for Ginny. The warm breeze of a California summer hits him almost instantly, a stark contrast from the air conditioned restaurant. And there she is - leaning against the wall, staring into the darkness, a haunted look on her pretty face.

“Hey, slugger.” Mike says quietly, approaching her as soon as the door clicks shut.

“He’s dead and I’m not.” The words sound hollow, bleak, like she’s repeated them a hundred times to herself but they never sound real. “He’s dead and he never - he never saw me graduate. He’s never gonna see me get married or have kids.” Her voice hitches. Her Dad - playing in a backyard with her kids, teaching them baseball, teaching them Ginny’s pitch, laughing as they tackle him, letting them win games and strike him out. It’s such a clear image it near takes her breathe away - right down to the little kid’s eyes, the same shade of blue that Mike has.

Ginny swallows. “He never -” Her lips press together, trying to hold back a sob. “He never even say me make it to Triple A or even - my first **game**.” She loses the battle then, tears breaking past the floodgates and pouring down her face. Soft, quiet and heartbreaking sobs break past her painted lips. “I can’t keep pretending I’m okay, Mike.” She turns her gaze, looking at him as he stands there, merely watching her, trying to be that silent support as she gets it all out.

(How long has she kept it bottled up, he wonders. How long as she not had someone to talk too, not had anyone to lean on?)

“I just can’t.” Mike kicks off the wall, heading towards her, not even hesitating as his arms wrap around her. He pulls her body to his, holding her close.

“I got you, slugger, okay?” Mike mutters against the curls of her hair, heartbreaking as she sobs into his nice dress shirt - a shirt Amelia suggested he wear, the words, Ginny’s your rookie now and you should look the part when you meet her family. - Mike’s eyes slip closed and he holds Ginny tighter, sushing her quietly. “I got you.”

 


End file.
